wild
by Gray lines
Summary: There are a lot of inconvenient side effects of resonance. Experiencing your partner's pain, anxiety attacks, or in this case sharing highs. Soul indulges in an old coping mechanism and Maka is feeling the effects. Tw mentions of childhood emotional abuse


There was a haze on the edge of her vision. On the edge of her mind. The room kept slipping in and out of focus. Still, she tried her best to look professional. With the giggles slipping to freely from her lips and the pressure that seemed to settle across her brain.

Soul had been red-eyed when they got in the car. Not just his usual bored burgundy either. There was a cloudy pink tint to the whites of his eyes and the smell of cologne that tipped her off. He had indulged in one of his old habits.

She never worried much about Soul smoking pot. She'd had known enough stoners growing up to know the difference between the scare tactics they used in schools and the actual side effects to the high.

personally, she'd never been interested in inhibiting her natural brain. She was too controlling to let go of any measure of control over her mental state.

She wasn't exactly surprised he'd resorted to his old tactics of stress relief, not when she knew his parents were going to be present at the function tonight. No, she wasn't surprised, maybe a little disappointed that she'd have to keep an eye on him all night, but with the tension heavy in his posture ever since they'd learned the details of this assignment, she knew more or less he'd be reverting tonight.

Gone was the confidence of a death scythe. He slouched tightly into himself wrinkling the elbows of his suit jacket. His red eyes were lined first with the bright evidence of his indulgence, then the heavy bruising of sleepless nights.

This was a political meeting. This was for business and as much as Maka wished she could have backed out of it for his sake, they had to do their job.

She clutched his hand tightly in hers but gripped the resonance tighter not allowing as much of his high to cloud her brain.

It was hard to schmooze the man deep in conversation about some ridiculous cut back he'd formulated to save his company more money when all she could think about was bodily dragging her weapon away from this place.

She'd met the Evans a handful of times. Wes visited whenever he felt like it. often showing up at their door with a suitcase and no notice so they couldn't make any excuses for him not to stay. Mrs. Evans was a nice lady. She micromanaged a little too much for Maka's taste but ultimately she had Souls best interest in mind. His father, however, she'd met one time. As far as Victor was concerned Soul had wasted his life, skill, and lineage when he left home. Victor didn't care about his youngest son. He made that expressly clear. And he didn't care much for Maka either.

They'd met only the first time Soul had gained contact with his family after leaving home years before.

They'd fought a kishin in lower New York along with Kim and Jackie. Maka had taken a pretty bad hit to the side towards the end of the battle. Soul slung her over one arm and drug her down the streets trying to keep his grip from hurting her further. A news van that had been filming the battle from about a block away offered them a ride to the nearest hospital. The video of them showed on the regular news broadcast the next morning promoting Mrs. Evans to drag the others away from the house and down to the hospital to see Soul.

He'd been at the hotel room when they arrived, gathering some of Maka's clothes so she could change as soon as she was discharged.

The Evans hadn't known her name or the one soul adopted after moving out but their own name got them past the nurses and into her room.

She'd been bombarded with questions right away. Wes wanted to know every minuscule detail of his brother's life that he'd missed out on. Rosalind asked after his health but mostly just waited by the door looking anxiously down the hallway waiting for him to show up.

Victor stood silently in the corner. His presence was similar to a snake behind glass. All lethal patience and venomous glares. When Soul finally returned his face turned ashen. He froze in the doorway eyes locked on the intruders in his new life. His panicking mind screamed at him to run but he couldn't leave Maka laid up in the bed alone.

He shuffled awkwardly to her side waiting for someone to break the silence. Maka had expected his mother to break the tension but she only looked to her husband waiting for him to decide the next move.

Victor huffed crossing his arms before him. "Soul Eater?" he asked sneering at the new name his son had chosen. "I suppose it's fitting that you gave up the name you so obviously didn't deserve." And then he was three long strides out the door. Leaving the other two to pick up the shattered pieces of their reunion and try to salvage a relationship out of the wreckage of his childhood.

In three years Victor hadn't made a single attempt to mend their relationship or even appear in the same room as his son. Maka despised the vile man. It had taken every inch of her three broken ribs and the hairline fracture in her ankle to keep from chasing him down that day. And now standing across the room from him sipping on something sparkling that doesn't contain alcohol Maka knows its only her role as Shibushen representative and Soul's sweaty grip that keeps her from verbally harassing the man.

So no, she doesn't blame him for the slip in control tonight. She holds his soul against her own and struggles through heavy eyelids for his sake. A little contact high and a wandering train of thought isn't going to kill her but the resonance is currently keeping him together.

Her eyes idly wander over the huge ornamental clock trying to gauge whether or not it would be rude to leave yet.

Rosalind has stayed by her husband's side through the couple of hours they've been here. Just twenty feet from her son and yet she doesn't even glance in his direction. Not in front of her husband.

Maka's not thinking clearly, she knows this but doesn't seem to care at the moment. Soul has been through more than enough torture tonight she decides and fakes that she feels faint probably something blowing in with the rain that she's allergic to. Such an archaic way to weasel out of a party but that and a promised lunch date successfully frees them for the evening.

She can feel the tension easing from his soul every mile the car drives away from that stupid party. His head is in her lap and her hand is in his hair trying to brush the stress away.

Her wavelength hums with his trying to offer her energy to refuel his emotional exhaustion. His hand hasn't left hers for hours, there's a paste of sweat and dead skin gluing them together now. Still, she doesn't pull away.

Once she has him back in their hotel room she guides him to the bed letting him sit while she unlaces his shoes. she's whispering reassurances to him trying to help his wavelength settle from its chaotic strumming.

She pulls his belt from his slacks and tosses it half hazard across the room. She goes for his tie next loosening it until the skinny end slips through the knot.

She plants a kiss on his forehead while her hands push his suit jacket back off his shoulders. He moves to help her slide it off his arms but she stops him. He isn't catatonic. He could very well undress himself but the glassy film over his gaze makes her feel guilty.

He shouldn't have had to do that. for their jobs or not he shouldn't be pushed into proximity with an emotional abuser.

She pulls the sleeve of his jacket by the cuffs pulling each of his arms free and settles herself into his lap. The reassuring whispers pause long enough for her to scatter kisses across his jaw. Her hands working through the buttons on his shirt.

Once she has him topless she dips her head down to taste his neck. Her tongue traces apologies across his collarbone while her hands fumble with the button of his slacks trapped between them.

Soul sighs into her hair his hands settling on her hips pulling at the material of her dress. Maka slips off his lap to haul her dress over her head. she bends down to slip off her heels while she's at it.

she steps between his knees her hands grab for his waistband ready to rid him of his pants.

He breaths her name into the space between them partly a question and partly a plea. She pauses and looks him in the eye waiting for his request.

"kiss me" he begs.

Maka leans in lips bumping hesitantly at first before she lets him dominate her mouth. His tongue wraps around hers as desperate and clingy as the rest of him. But this is the only submission he will get from her tonight.

She pulls away to drag his slacks down his legs taking the underwear with it.

Soul bodily shudders against the cold room as she presses against his chest urging him to lay in the center of the bed. Her mouth plays along his chest and mutters to him.

She tells him it's all going to be okay. that everything's fine.

When her hand grips his half hard member she runs her thumb over the slit and asks him nicely to get hard for her.

He moans at the words his dick twitching to life under her slow strokes and talented fingers. She peppers kisses to each of his thighs sucking hard against the juncture of his right leg and hip leaving a flushed mark of claim.

Soul is breathless and full of sighs but Maka keeps her pace slow. She may be dominating but she's making love to him tonight.

When he's grown full and hard in her hand she smiles up the length of his body locking her eyes with his flushed face.

"good boy Soul, such a good boy."

She takes a long lick from base up, flicking her tongue around the ridge where shaft meets head. He flexes his hips into her hand but works to keep from thrusting. Maka has given him no such permissions yet.

The responses he's giving leave her sticky and sore between her legs. She has to remind hers self that tonight is about him. He's more than earned any special treatment he may ask for.

But Soul has never been good with words so she looks to his body language for clues to what he wants. His knees spread prompting maka to pull them apart far enough to reach his balls.

She gives them a good fondling when she finally takes him into her mouth. He whines at the feeling but presses his hips down into the mattress to keep from bucking into her mouth.

Maka rewards him with a generous suck before pulling back to lave the head with her tongue. Soul groans at the loss of heat; her saliva cools along his shaft before her hand starts working him again.

Her face abandons its place to tease his nipples. Rolling them between her teeth and soothing the skin with her tongue. 

He gasps finally losing the battle with his hips as he bucks into her hand. Curses and apologies fall from his lips but make doesn't slow or punish him. She just brushes her thumb soothingly the bruise she left him, pressing into it to further irritate the skin. 

Soul isn't very vocal. Full of breath and sighs instead. But he whispers her name just to hear her croon his back. 

He shudders, head tipping back eyes, eyes dewy and wide. One of his hands catches hers from his hip, fingers weaving and squeezing between hers. 

He falls apart slowly tensing from head to toe and relaxing again. Clinging to her hand for support. 

Maka kneads the muscle of his thigh soothing him through the aftershock. She plants a messy kiss against his stomach just below his belly button. His usually burning gaze is listless and glassy. Eyes sliding past her as he tries to focus. 

He is but a pliant pule of limbs and hair know. The sweat having ruined It from the slicked back look he'd worn tonight.

He lays back and let's her pet him. Finding comfort in the patterns she strokes across his chest, arms, cheek. She brushes her lips under his eye when he hums her name through clumsy lips. 

He wonders how he got here, to this heaven. Gifted to this angel from the hell he was raised in. 


End file.
